


a breath of death

by manbunjon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 08:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: written forjonsa kink week// day three: orgasm denialWhen she had greeted him at the door of his private study and Jon had stepped aside to allow she come through before turning the lock in its grate, a wolfish grin on his lips as he commented wryly that they should continue what had begun that morning, a thrill had run through her. She had thought that they would be quick and passionate, as their sessions of afternoon lovemaking oft were.But it seemed Jon had other ideas.





	a breath of death

He was doing this on purpose, she was sure of it. Surely it was a way to punish her for her earlier jest, for surely her husband still felt sore at the way she had left him that morn, with his sweat-dotted chest heaving and his cock hard beneath his half-laced breeches, staring bewildered after her as she had quit the room. Any other day Sansa might have found it funny, had she not been laid across their feather bed with her husband’s head beneath her gown and his wicked tongue tracing across her thighs.

Her fingers twisted in his dark curls, trying in vain to nudge his head forward. His mouth was agonizingly slow, the fresh stubble on his cheeks scratching at her thighs as he peppered them with kisses. He had started by removing her slippers one by one, pressing his lips to the arch of each foot before rising to kiss the protruding bone of each ankle one by one. His fingers carefully unlatched the clasps of her stockings, letting them fall to her ankles where he could singly pull them free.

When she had greeted him at the door of his private study and Jon had stepped aside to allow she come through before turning the lock in its grate, a wolfish grin on his lips as he commented wryly that they should continue what had begun that morning, a thrill had run through her. She had thought that they would be quick and passionate, as their sessions of afternoon lovemaking oft were.

But it seemed Jon had other ideas.

He was purposefully slow. Slower than even their most passionate and lustful encounters. His mouth was languid, the striking quickness that had overtaken him when he had swept her off her feet and thrown her onto the bed abruptly departed.

She craved his touch, her very bones aching to feel his body against hers. She had tried her best to seduce him into quitting such an act, to force him into breaking the sluggish pace he had set. But it was all to no avail.  
“Jon.” she whined, displeased.

He _tsk_ ed his tongue, looking up at her from between her legs. “Always in such a rush.”

When he finally touched her she jumped, feeling a roll of pleasure run though her like a strike. Jon smiled against her maiden’s place. He kissed her so softly she could scarcely feel it, the flat of his tongue ghosting across her.

She longed for his touch, lifting her hips in what she hoped was a goading gesture. Still he did not budge.

Suddenly she realised what she must do, pushing herself up on her elbows to better meet his eye. He looked up expectantly, a dark brow crooked. “ _Please_.” she said, firm.

Jon smiled.

At once everything was different. He moved quick and sure, a jarring difference to his previously slow pace. Her leg hung over his shoulder like a pelt, her cheeks burnishing as she watched him press a series of kisses between her legs, half mad.

Jon could feel her body go taut beneath his mouth, her hips lifting unconsciously off the featherbed before she as unspooling like a roll of loosening thread. The sound of her moans were enough to send him over the edge even without a single touch, the way her head was thrown back and her mouth hung open more obscene than the fact that he had just knelt between her parted thighs.

“Jon.” she breathed.

In another life she might have been hesitant to kiss him and taste herself upon his lips. But she could not resist his touch. His eyes were dark and hooded, glistening with arousal as he looked down upon her, his gaze heating her body as he eyed the length of her.

Her cheeks burned, tasting she was as sweet as he had whispered that she was when his lips has been at her, parting her folds so that he could plant a kiss upon her soft skin.

“Jon.” she whispered. She pulled him close, her eyes conveying every word she wished to say. “I want you.”

He smirked, kissing her softly. “Have me.”

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS HORRID- I was considering not even posting it.


End file.
